Burning In My Blood
by catoniss456
Summary: Cato and Katniss are from two different worlds. But when the tragic, annual Hunger Games encounters them, they will face the consequences of their love being ruled over their expected deaths. TRIGGER WARNING. (Self Harm), Strong Language and Lemons.
1. District 12 Reaping

KATNISS'S POV

* * *

I wake up to Primrose in my bed; tightly clutched onto me, her skinny arms wrapped around my waist.

Buttercup, the ugliest cat in the world, lies on the floor comfortably. He won't be in danger of being reaped today.

I look outside the window as well. Chilly and cold: Typical District 12 weather.

I slowly pull Prim's arms off me and swing my legs over the side of the bed. The hard wood floor creaks and cracks below my feet as I stand.

The seeps of bright light are remain intact through the curtains, and I can still see my sister and mother's soft faces.

My mother sleeps in a separate bed. My mother used to be beautiful. The wrinkles deepen her face and she no longer looks bright as she used to be. Or so I hear.

I open the closet door to pull on a black shirt, and then my father's hunting jacket. I put on a pair of trousers, then sit on the bed and lace up my molded combat boots.

Prim stirs in her bed, reaching out for me and mumbling my name. I take her hand and squeeze it. "I'll be back soon. Sleep in," I whisper softly.

Walking out the room, I see a plate on the kitchen table with a bowl over it. I lift it up and it is a piece of soft goat cheese from Lady, the goat I had bought Prim about 3 years ago. I slip it into my pocket and reach to the door of our house.

I see the broken faces of coal miners and homeless people outside; their hunched over backs, their faces caked with coal mine, and the heavy miner hats on their heads.

It gives me a pang of pain in my chest remembering my father, Benjamin Everdeen, who died in a bomb explosion when I was only 11 years old; my father, the one who taught me to hunt; to live and tell berries apart in the woods. My father, the one who told me stories as the fireplace crackled, the one who held me tightly when I screamed from my usual nightmares.

My father worked at the youngest age possible, sixteen, and had been sent home after he received a critical gash on his cheek. My mother had seen him out the window of her mother's apothecary shop and offered to heal his wound. He insisted they sit by his favorite spot, the lake in the woods, and she carefully washed and treated his cheek. From that point on, they instantly fell in love.

They say my mother loved my father so much that she left her family behind when they didn't approve of their relationship. To this day, I wonder what happened after.

I arrive about 5 feet from the fence with looped barb wire on top. It's right where the meadow ends, and on the other side is the Seam. My house is on the edge of it. The richer side, where my mother used to live, lies on the left of me.

I slip through the weak hole on the bottom of the fence. It's about 2 feet high and fits enough for me to slide in. There are other places where I could slide into, but this is the closest to home.

Originally, this fence was built because of the danger of wild game attacking us. It used to be filled with electricity twenty-four hours a day, but that has long passed. We are lucky to get maybe an hour, or two, of electricity a day.

"District Twelve, where you can safely starve to death," I mutter to myself.

I look behind my shoulder and then jog for about half a mile, until I reach a bow, quiver and arrows that hide under a sheath of rock and in a tree hole. I slide on my bow on and fill the quiver with the arrows.

My father made the bow for me, carefully crafted in a workshop where he worked every Sunday morning, his day off. It has always been his gift to me, and with it, I feel safe. I feel like I am who I am.

I walk silently, pulling an arrow back onto my bow.

Gale makes me jump when he grabs me from behind and says "Catnip."

I compose myself. "_Damn you_, Gale!" But I can't help but laugh.

He's been my best friend since a few months after my father's death. I was in the woods when I saw a tall, manly figure approaching me. I first thought it was a peacekeeper, and was about to make a run for until he called out and said, "What's a scrawny, little miner girl like you doing here?" When I told him my name, he mispronounced it, replacing Katniss for "Catnip." It's been our joke ever since.

"Prim left us a reaping day gift." I carefully wrap my fingers around the cheese in my pocket and pull it out.

"I got us bread from the bakery. Only cost me a squirrel," he says, pulling out a loaf of bread with an arrow stuck in it. I smile hard, and he says I only smile in the woods.

"We'll have a real feast," I laugh.

We walk until we reach an open field filled with meadow grass, trees, and katniss roots growing out of the ground. Finally, we find a good spot to sit and Gale slices open the bread, spreads it with the goat cheese and tops it with small basil leaves.

I try to strive off the subject of the reaping.

"How's Posy?" I ask. Posy is Gale's little sister, not including his two younger brothers, Rory and Victor. "She's still sick, but your mom's medicine did the trick on her coughing," he answers.

He passes me a slice. I take a bite of the warm bread.

We stay quiet for a while until I can't help but quietly ask, "How many times is your name in today?"

"Fourty-two," he resents. "You?"

The thirty times my name is in that bowl is nothing compared to his entries. "Thirty." I answer.

"I guess the odds aren't exactly in our favor," he says, looking at the floor.

The air is humid and thick by this point. I pull up my sleeves, forgetting the immense amount of scars I had.

"Katniss," Gale's voice warns. I look at him and he grabs my arm. "What happened?" His eyes meet mine.

I quickly pull away, shoving down my sleeves and standing up. "Buttercup was being aggressive while I bathed him," I respond silently.

His eyebrow rises.

I've been keeping my secret of self-harm successfully since my father died. Gale didn't know; not anybody knew.

"You sure? Buttercup can be horrible like that." He smiles. "Yeah," I awkwardly respond; lips tightly together.

"We should get going by now." I pick my bow up from the ground and he stands up, too. We walk until we reach the fence. I slide under and wait for him to do the same, as it is harder since he's bigger.

On the way home, we stop by the Hob. I lean over the counter as Greasy Sae attends us. We trade our fish for a gallon of strawberries. I look at a small container she has on the counter. One opening contains a bundle of pins and buttons until a small, strange, yellow gleam catches my eye.

I pick it up. It's a mockingjay pin. I look at Greasy Sae and ask how much it costs. She says I can keep it as long as I keep the fresh game stock up. It's a good deal. She wishes us both luck as we walk out.

Afterwards, we walk to Madge Undersee's house, the daughter of District 12's mayor who always buys our strawberries. The odds today will most definitely be in her favor. We knock on her door, and see a stick-thin figure dressed in a white silk dress and gold buckle. Gale stares at her hard and I swallow.

"Here are your strawberries, Madge." She puts 5 dollars in my hand.

"Pretty," Gale says quickly.

"Thank you. I think I want to look my best if I get to go to the Capitol," she responds.

We both know there is no way she is going. Seven times compared to Gale's fourty-two times are again, nothing. This is her last reaping; she will never be entered for the Hunger Games again.

But you'd expect her to be a snob with her living conditions and all. We group up at school, talk at lunch, and occasionally help each other on homework.

She ignores Gale and looks at me. "Good luck today, Katniss." I nod and she closes her door.

We stop outside her house.

"See you at the reaping," I say to Gale, trying to swallow the obvious hint of nervousness in my throat.

"Wear something nice," Gale replies, sarcastically.

I rush home and open the door to find my mother actually awake and braiding Prim's hair.

"Oh, Prim. You look _gorgeous_," I say.

I kneel next to her.

"Tuck in your tail, little duck." She giggles and responds by making a small quack. "Quack yourself," I laugh back.

"I laid something out for you, Katniss," my mom says quietly. I purse my lips tightly.

"Okay," I say coldly.

Our relationship has never been the same ever since my dad died. She left a huge responsibility on my shoulders and left us to fend off for ourselves. I don't know; I don't believe I can forgive her for it.

I walk to my bed and see a blue dress that buttons up to the collar. It ties up in the back. It is obviously from my mother's younger, golden days, which surprises me.

I take a bath first, heating the water we used for cooking this morning. I scrub at my oily skin and dirt under my nails, and use a simple soap to wash at my hair. Afterwards, I dry myself with a small towel. I slide on the dress, button it up, and walk to the living room.

My mother stands behind me; her careful, but yet wrinkled fingers moving across my hair, braiding and pinning it up. I stare at the mirror, not being used to looking this presentable.

"You look even prettier than me," Prim says quietly.

I walk to her. "No, don't say that. You're so beautiful, Prim. I wish I looked like you."

The bell outside rings. The reaping will begin in less than an hour.

I quickly look at my mother, then back to Prim. "Everything's going to be okay. Okay? Once we're home we can thread that blanket you wanted for Buttercup for so long. I promise."

She still looks nervous. I slip my hand into my dress pocket and pull out the mockingjay pin. I look at her reassuringly as I slip it into her tiny, little hands.

"It's a Mockingjay pin. As long as you have it, nothing bad will happen to you. Okay?" I shake.

"Thank you, Katniss," she responds, slowly admiring the golden pin. This comforts her, and she holds my hand.

We walk to the square where the reaping is held every year.

As we enter the square, we see families, siblings, and couples holding hands. They don't know if the other will be sent.

The rules for the Hunger Games are simple. In response to the treason the districts had for rising against the Capitol, they created the Games. Each of the twelve districts sends one male and one female, ages twelve to eighteen, to the custody of the Capitol. They will be readied for three days, and then sent off to an arena, which can range from anything like a vast desert to a frozen wasteland.

They must then fight to the death until a lone person remains. This person then becomes the victor, and is sent on a victory tour to visit the districts, bringing even more misery to their life. It must be horrible to look into the eyes of the parents whose children you murdered, and see their painful expressions staring back.

In the square also lays the Justice Building, where I signed up for tesserae so many times. The deal is that you get grain and oil, enough to last you a few months, in exchange for having your name entered more times. I signed up at least ten times. Prim insisted on signing up for it, and I told her to never bring it up again.

We stand in line to sign in.

Everyone must attend unless you are on your death bed. Those who do not attend will later be visited by officials, and if illness is not the case, they are arrested. Or worse, killed.

I quickly turn to my side. "Prim, if anything, I love you. Now go wait over there with the kids your age. I'll find you after," I say.

She nods and walks off while I stand with the rest of the sixteen-year-olds. To my left, I see Gale in the male section. He gives me a comforting look and I nod.

I turn to look at the stage as Effie, our district escort, taps the microphone, which gives a loud buzz throughout the crowd. She's fresh out of the Capitol, with her white wig and purple suit. Matching her ridiculous heels are her 3 inch nails.

Behind her, I can see three seats. Two are filled by the Mayor and head peacekeeper of our district, Darius. The last seat remains empty. They look at it worriedly.

"Welcome, welcome, as we celebrate the seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games," Effie squeals. It's obnoxious.

"As usual, ladies first." She gives a smile and then walks to the girl's reaping bowl on the left.

It's filled with thousands of slips. One has Primrose Everdeen on it, and thirty have Katniss Everdeen in clear, perfect print. She digs her hand into the bowl and pulls one out.

The crowd is absolutely silent as she walks to the microphone and opens the slip in her hands.

All I can think is that _it's not me, that it's not me, it's not me_. But in fact, it isn't me.

It's Primrose Everdeen.


	2. District 2 Reaping

CATO'S POV

* * *

I jolt upright from my sleep and claw my blanket off my body, feeling it suffocating me like a hand closing tight around a single paper slip from a reaping bowl. My arms find their way around my knees as I rock my body back and forth in sheen sweat.

Panting hard, I clamber out of bed and open the window to breathe in the cold air. I inhale as much as I can until I ache. My lungs do this until I feel like they're about to explode inside my chest.

_They picked you; it was you_, the words of my dream echo over and over inside my head. You never had any odds in your favor to begin with, it was always _you_.

I look onto the dimly lit street to find the hushed voices and sleepy murmurs of a line of careers walking toward District 2's training center. Although it's illegal to train, the Capitol doesn't pay enough attention to stop it.

Here in 2, we're known for using swords and knives as our weapons because of our masonry and peacekeeper headquarters. We keep them protected with our forces, and happy with steel to build their pretty buildings. They pay us back by sparing our lives.

Of course, the careers would use every last minute of training they could, even on the reaping day. Rest is a foreign concept to them. Or to their parents, I should say. Districts 1, 2 and 3 are known for their career children, and the name lives up to itself because they begin training for the Hunger Games at the age of five, as if it were a job. They are taught how to build shelter, find food, and fight and then sent in to volunteer.

I must have been so damn lucky to be born in any of these three districts.

Three of my siblings, first Jacob, then Augustus, and finally Megan, have already been forced to volunteer by my father, a victor himself. He says it's to regain back honor and revenge for his father who died in the Games.

Today, I am next. In 6 years, it will be Michelle's turn. My tiny, baby sister forced into an arena where nobody knows if she will be the last to make it out.

It disgusts me so much that I slam the window shut, causing Mitch to stir in my mother's arms and clutch her teddy bear tighter, with its stuffing poking out of its tummy and one missing eye.

She peeks up from her blanket and asks in her tiniest voice, "Cato?"

"Baby," I compose myself and say softly. "Go back to sleep." I brush her blonde curls out of her eyes. "But Cato, what's happening today? I heard mommy and daddy arguing last night about you going somewhere."

My voice tightens and I swallow the lump in my throat. "I'm not—"

"Cato," my mother's voice quivers. I know she's been awake the whole time and got no sleep. She has no control over how my dad will send me to the Games today, but Mitch, the last thing she can shield, will not be told anything about it.

"Go downstairs and help your father with breakfast. I'll be there in a minute to talk to you about… About school," she quickly says.

I stay quiet, knowing her intentions for Mitch are helpless and my father will always find a way to send us, but do as my mother says. Mitch will be sent to my grandmother's house for the day. My grandma is too sick to attend the reaping, and everybody in 2 knows that Mitch makes a loud fuss every year; therefore they won't care if she doesn't attend.

I nod and go to the bathroom, hop in the shower and punch a million different buttons to adjust the water. I hardly know what any of the buttons mean, but I don't care if it's freezing cold or boiling hot. I scrub the sweat off my skin and run my soapy fingers through my hair. Once I rinse, I step out to the closet room with a towel around my waist.

It's filled with too many fancy dresses and suits for seven people, but I pick the training suit I've been so familiar with for years. I put it on and it fits tight against my muscular chest. I slide on my combat boots, which are too tight for my big feet, and walk down stairs.

My father, sipping his regular black coffee, as bitter as his personality is, reads the newspaper at the table. It's like any other morning for him. He doesn't care if I die; all he cares about is honor and is too foolish to believe I'll make it out.

I ignore him and brew my own coffee whilst frying eggs and pancakes. I fill my plate up and sit in front of him to eat.

"Do I get a 'good morning'?" He asks.

"Do I get my life spared today? Both answers are obviously no," I say coldly, and continue wolfing down my plate.

"Cato, you've trained since you were five for twelve years; you'll be fine. It'll barely last three days. I'm confident and proud in you."

"Proud of what?" I put my fork down and stare at him.

"Proud of your son killing innocent children? Proud of your three other kids murdering half the tributes in a bloodbath? How the hell can you get pleasure out of people who come from such poor conditions, like the tributes of District 12 who already have miserable lives, being murdered?"

He's about to respond before I cut him off. "I'm not fucking hungry anymore." I get up from the table and throw my food away, knowing I'll be begging to have this type of food again in the arena.

"Okay," my dad finally says. "You woke up late today and didn't get to go training in time with the other careers. That's a shame."

The rest of my family pours into the kitchen and sits down. Everybody is silent and they barely touch their plates. I cross my arms and lean against the fridge door, glaring at them all. "I better see two full plates being eaten right now, or else." My mother forces food down for the sake of everybody else eating.

An hour later, the bell for the reaping rings.

I feel my lungs explode and my heart swell. I grip the back of the kitchen chair until my knuckles turn white, and my mother has to pry off finger by finger for me to let go.

My grandmother's house is on the way, and we drop Mitch off. "Hi, grandma," I say, and hold her fragile hand softly. "I just wanted to say I love you. Tell me if Mitch acts up and call mom if you need anything, okay?" I kiss her cheek and we leave to the square.

The peacekeepers sitting at the sign in table immediately start talking to my dad, and they laugh as if they were at a sitcom. My father knows them from work, being a peacekeeper himself. I'll never call myself to get used to the attention of being a victor family.

I take a deep breath, get my finger pricked, blood stamped, and walk in. My father and three siblings take their seats on stage as they do every year, and my mother and I go to our respective sections in the crowd. I stand on the very edge of my section.

Careers walk down the center aisle to go to their divisions. I hear a voice call my name from the aisle and turn to look at who it is. They call my name out again. "Cato?"

I see the owner of the voice approaching me.

It's Clove, my ex-girlfriend, whom I met at school. We broke up a month ago because she was too controlling. To be honest, I wasn't attracted to her at all and only felt bad when she asked me out. She still glances at me from time to time when we train, and the most I say is a hello before making up an excuse to leave.

"Clove?" I'm surprised. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in your section."

"I just wanted to wish you good luck, although there's no doubt that if you volunteer, people will bet on you. I think this is the year I'm going to volunteer."

My voice is indifferent to that. "Okay. Have fun sending yourself to an arena that some of us wish they had a choice of going to." I cross my arms and turn away.

She blinks and stares at me, then turns away and walks off.

Our district escort, Leonis Flake, walks on stage wearing an oversized, black and white suit. He takes off his hat, runs his hand through his obvious extensions, and speaks into the microphone. I can see the smudges of gold eyeliner under his eyes, as they crease with each movement he makes.

"Welcome to the annual 74th Hunger Games! Today we are celebrating a much anticipated event, as I'm sure all of you are feeling the same way. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor," Leonis says with a thick, Capitol accent.

He walks over to the reaping bowl holding the female entries names and wastes no time picking one out. His hand grabs the first one he sees and he calls out the girl's name. Clove lunges forward to volunteer, along with two other girls. A bet is made using a show of hands to vote for the tribute, and Clove wins. She takes her place on stage next to Leonis.

_I'm not volunteering_, I think to myself. I'm not, I'm not. He can't make me. He's up on stage.

Leonis makes his way the male reaping bowl and mutters, "This one will be interesting." He digs his hand in the bowl carefully, unlike the last time, picks a slip out, and walks back to the podium. His hands open the tiny envelope and he takes a fresh breath of air before calling it out, while I hold my breath.

"Cato Robinson."

As a kid, I would hate everybody with the same name as me. Now, I've never been more relieved in my life.

That's until my father stands up from his chair and walks behind Leonis. He whispers something in his ear and sits back down. Leonis looks confused but his eyes quickly fall on me, as everybody's eyes do.

"I…I think we have a volunteer from the back?" He stammers. "Since nobody else volunteered, Cato Adams is our male tribute. Come on up."

"No, I didn't—" I start yelling, but it's too late and I get shoved into the center aisle. Peacekeepers grab me and pull me up on stage. I try to push them off but there's too many of them.

I choke back tears and hear my mother sobbing loudly from the crowd. My father has never looked more proud for another one of his kid to go into the Games.

Clove and I are asked to shake hands. We don't.

Leonis carries on.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the tributes of this year's annual 74th Hunger games, Clove Morgan and Cato Adams!"


	3. District 12 Train

KATNISS'S POV

* * *

I don't think I could have walked fast enough to the front. I pushed people out of the way, mostly making a clear path for me.

"Prim!" I scream. She turns around; I know she's going to push me back. I pull her out of the way, putting her behind me.

"I volunteer!" I shout. "I volunteer as tribute!" I finally gasp out.

"No, Katniss, you can't go!" Prim starts screaming and grabbing onto me.

"Prim. Let go." I swallow. I am in danger of crying and breaking down, but I know people will be watching the reapings tonight, and will see my tears and mark me as an easy target for the arena. I must give nobody the sanctification.

"Let _go_." I pull her off. Gale comes and lifts up Prim, who's going ballistic at this point.

"Come on, Prim." His voice quivers and breaks midsentence. He carries her away as a group of peacekeepers drag me to the side of the stage.

I hesitate, confused by so much happening at once, but I climb up the stone steps to the platform. Effie grabs me by the shoulders, hurrying me along. Better not bore the Capitol.

She whips the microphone in front of me. "What's your name, dear?" She asks as if it really interests her.

"Katniss Everdeen," I say dryly.

"Well, I bet my buttons that was your sister, wasn't it?" She asks eagerly.

"Yes." I swallow.

"Let's give a big hand to District 12's very first volunteer: Katniss Everdeen!" She claps her hands together until it dies down awkwardly. Nobody from the crowd claps with her. We may be a fucked up, poor district, but we know this is all wrong. Nobody deserves this; it's disgusting.

Instead, they put their pinky and thumb together, three fingers up to their lips. They all salute me after. This is a sign of thanks, an admiration. A sincere goodbye.

I am truly in danger of breaking down until Haymitch, the owner of the last empty seat, whips his arm around me and laughs at the crowd, pointing at the camera. "She's got more spunk, more than you! And you!" He grabs Effie, too. I compose myself and he passes out, being carried away on a stretcher.

I let out a small choke in the back of my throat, starting from my stomach. I stare into the distance, seeing my sister wrapped in my mother's arms, both sobbing. Prim's on the verge of going up after me. Gale is trying to hold himself together, holding them both, but he lets out frustrated, hard sobs.

"Now for the boys!" Effie beams. She reaches her hand into the bowl and yanks out a slip.

"Peeta Mellark." Her voice once again booms and silences the crowd. Everyone knows him, the baker's son. I feel a twist in my stomach; he also goes to my school and did me a favor long ago that I will never be able to repay.

It was one day while Prim, my mother and I were on the verge of dying due to starvation. The cupboards, the drawers: All empty, vanished. No food, not one crumb. Prim, already too skinny, looked sick and pale. The woods were dry of game, snow and rain poured, and we had no wood for the fireplace. The Justice Building closed, refusing to give anyone any tesserae.

I set out to sell Prim's old, threaded baby clothes, but nobody wanted to buy them. I sat under a tree, sobbing in frustration. I begged death to swallow me up whole, and never let me see day again.

I had failed Prim. I had failed my father. I laid on the bark of the tree, in front of the bakery. I had tried scraping through their trash can, but , the baker's wife, quickly chased me off, calling me every foul name her mind could think of.

I sat back against the tree, until I saw him, Peeta. He came out with two burnt loaves of bread; his mother had struck him across the face for burning them. He was about to throw them to pigs until he tossed me the two loaves, gave me a look, and then shut the door behind him.

At first, I believed it was an accident, but I didn't care. I scrambled to the loaves, picking them up. I put them into the folds of my coat. The loaves burned me but I still didn't care.

I walked home and made my sister and mother sit at the table. I pulled out the loaves: One for Prim and half of one for my mother and me. I made Prim eat every bite. I then tucked Prim in, and collapsed exhausted in bed next to her. Cruelness struck inside me, not caring if my mom finished her half or not.

Now here we are: The boy who saved my life, with the possibility of me slitting his throat in the arena, and me. Effie makes us shake hands and we are rushed back into the Justice Building, with a large group of peacekeepers surrounding us.

I am shoved into a room with thick velvet flooring and comfortable looking sofas and chairs.

I am in no mood to sit or rest; I tap my fingers on the window still until I hear the door behind me open.

Prim doesn't hesitate to walk into my arms and sob, making my dress wet with tears. I make her regain her senses as my mother stands there, slowly slipping back into her dark world.

"Prim, listen to me. Gale will bring you game. You can sell cheese and milk from Lady. Don't take tessarae; it's not worth it." I try to say this as quickly as I can, knowing I only have five minutes.

She continues sobbing until I pull her into my arms, surprisingly pulling my mother in too. We stay there until I pull away and look straight at my mother.

"You can't do this again. You have to be there for Prim. You have to show her you're strong. I'm not going to be there anymore and Prim needs you. Whatever you see, you're going to ignore it," I say harshly. She just pulls me into her arms and her whole body racks with hard sobs, unable to speak.

I take Prim into my arms and she looks at me. "You're going to win. You're going to come back to me, right?" She asks over a series of sobs.

"Maybe I can, I am strong and I know how to hunt, you know." I swallow, knowing this will probably not help. There are people from upper districts who are stronger, bigger and taller; careers that have spent years learning the anatomy of a knife and the history of javelins.

"I want you home." She pulls out the mockingjay pin, putting it into my hand.

Prim is about to begin crying again until two peacekeepers burst in. I give her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Prim, I love you!" I scream before they fully pull them out.

Gale comes in right away and we don't hesitate to hug for a long time.

"You know how to hunt. You're stronger than they are, stronger than anyone I've ever met. You are." He's shaking and his pupils are wide.

"You know how to makes bows. Make one," he says, his voice quivering. I can't find the words to say.

"They may not have-" He interrupts me. "Then you make one. Something's better than nothing." He looks at me. We hug again without letting go and a peacekeeper shoves him out.

"Katniss, I—" He yells.

It's too late. He's gone, and I'll never know what he was going to say.

Then, peacekeepers surround Peeta and me, and we are pushed onto a train. Cameras are flashing and bright lights are in our faces. I feel like I can't move.

The train begins moving immediately and I am left in a large dining room with a crystal table. On top is all kinds of food; stew, small sandwiches, dinner rolls, buttered lobster, and crème brûlée; rows and rows of cupcakes, cakes, slices of pie, and cherry rolls.

Peeta and I don't know what to do until Effie rushes us into our compartments, telling us we can do as we please until supper.

I turn and investigate the room. It holds a shower room and chancing place, a mirror, a large closet and drawers that surround me.

I decide to take a cooling shower to take the urge of cutting off of my mind. I slip into the shower after untying my blue dress off of me. There are over hundreds of buttons, all with labels of different scents, scrubs, shampoos, conditioners, and soaps.

I press one which lets down a lemony smell on my back, and it scrubs it. Then, I press a shampoo button, and let the suds fill my hair. Afterward, the shower rinses, dries, combs, and leaves a shiny curtain of glossy hair down my back.

I put on a simple black shirt and pants and walk out, seeing Peeta has taken a shower too.

I sit on the blue cushion chair, one that looks out to the outside to the scenery flashing by extremely fast. I heard in school that Capitol trains move 250 miles per hour.

Peeta sits next to me. I refuse to look at him. We don't exchange words until we see Haymitch drunkenly walk out the sliding doors.

"Where's, where's Effie?" He stammers, spews chunks of vomit on the floor, and collapses into the pool he's created. I am about to help him until two train attendees pick him up right away.

Effie walks in, disgusted, and sits in front of us. "Don't mind him. He's just being...Haymitch." She smiles and quickly changes the subject. "Time for supper, he'll join us in a while," she says.

We sit at the table and I fill up my plate with stew, bread rolls, and sandwiches. I eat as if I've never seen food before. So does Peeta; we are not used to seeing all this food. In fact, it may be the first time we've seen so much at one time.

I don't care if Effie stares. She's used to this much food. ''Well, at least you two have some manners. The pair last year ate like a couple of savages," she scoffs.

It angers me. I pick up my sandwich and smack my lips. 'Like this?'' I ask her, glaring. I can hear Peeta smirk under his breath. Effie tightly purses her lips.

To the side of the room, the electric sliding doors open. A freshly showered Haymitch walks in and plops himself on a chair. Taking a chicken leg, he munches it and stares us down.

All I can do is silently finish my dinner and get a cherry roll and a few cupcakes for desert.

The fresh dough on the cherry roll reminds me of Prim; it's her favorite treat. We rarely got any.

On Christmas, my dad surprisingly bought my mother a tall cup of coffee, a rarity in Twelve. He also bought Prim and I some cherry rolls. We went to bed with full stomachs that night, one I'll cherish forever.

What brings me back to my senses is Peeta asking Haymitch how to get sponsors. I am so busy thinking of Prim and what she's doing that I don't hear a word. She will undoubtedly sleep closer to my mother tonight.

I stand up and sit back on a cushion chair. Pretty soon, Peeta joins me, and after a while of silence, he breaks it.

''I don't think there's anything wrong with getting a little help, Katniss.'' I glare at him and I'm about to respond to this until Effie walks in.

''Let's watch the reapings, shall we?''


	4. District 2 Train

CATO'S POV

* * *

Tears blind my eyes when I am sure of no cameras following us as we are shoved into the Justice Building.

Clove and I are put in separate rooms. My family follows me inside mine.

"_Go_," I tell my father when he walks in. "I don't want to see your fucking face; I said go. I despise you. I would kill you if I could; you're not my father anymore."

I shove him into the wall and he grabs my collar.

"Get off me." I push him off.

"Cato," he says. "Don't put your damn hands on me. Listen to me."

"I said _no_! What do you want from me?"

"Cato, I'm sorry, but you weren't speaking up. I had to do it for you. You'll be fine anyways, what's the problem?"

"What's my problem?" I stare at him.

"You're seriously asking me what my problem is? It's not that I'll die in the arena; I know I would win; my problem is about the kids who _won't_ make it out of the arena. They'll die."

"Just like your father, Lucas, he's dead. There's no bringing him back no matter how many of us you send into the arena to get revenge and your pathetic dignity back. He's dead, now _stop_!"

"Take him out of here right fucking now!" I yell at the peacekeepers. He resists and yells at me but they pull him out of the room. I clench my fists hard.

I turn to my mother, whose still quietly crying. My face softens. I kneel down next to the chair she's sitting on.

"Mommy." I take her hand. "Mom, please don't cry, I love you. Please, _please_. I'll come back fine. Take care of everybody. Take care of yourself. Take care of Mitch and grandma. Protect them. I love you so much." I kiss her forehead and start sobbing hard again.

A peacekeeper enters and tells her the time is up. "No!" She screams and clutches onto me.

"Cato, I love you!" She kisses my cheek one last time and is dragged out.

I stand there motionless.

Clove and I are pulled onto the train. I say nothing to her. Liones chatters on and on about the Capitol and how lucky we are

"Oh my god, you two, you're in for such a big treat! There are big parties and gorgeous buildings and make-up and clothes and beautiful women."

"Liones," I say, and put on my most sweetest, charming smile. "Could you please shut up? Thanks. I have a headache."

He stares at me in shock. "How rude—"

I don't bother to stay and listen. As I leave the train compartment, I hear Clove's snickering behind me.

I enter the dining hall and see fancy food laid out. There won't be a dinner because it's only a two hour trip, but we're allowed to help ourselves to the food. It's all laid out exactly like the three times I've heard Gus, Megan and Jacob describe it: The chocolate waterfall and strawberries, the broiled chicken, and the roasted beef.

It reminds me too much of home with our big closet and too many shower buttons.

I decide to grab a chocolate bar to ease off the ache. As careers, we eat nothing but healthy foods, but screw it; if I'm dying in three days, I deserve junk food before I do.

I go to my room, sit down on a bean bag and stare at the TV. Nothing is on but the reapings. I decide not to replay 2's reaping until I'm ready to deal with my emotions.

I'm too late to see District 11's reapings, but I see a tiny little girl on stage next to a monstrous boy who is easily my height and weight.

The channel cuts off to the next reaping, which is District 12's. I'm curious to see this since I've never paid attention to any outlying Districts before.

A girl as tiny as the one from 11, with hair blonder than mine, is reaped. Feeling sorry, I'm about to shut the TV off when another girl emerges from the crowd and calls out her name, being the first ever volunteer from 12.

She has the most beautiful, sea green eyes I've ever seen. Her hair is the color of my favorite shade of coffee in the morning. She makes me breathless. All I can do is stare at her.

Her name turns out to be Katniss Everdeen. I watch her run to the blonde girl, who I learn is her sister, Primrose, and she's carried off by a tall, dark haired boy who gives Katniss a reassuring look.

He must be her boyfriend. That makes me feel a sick knot in my stomach, like somebody punched me in the gut.

Behind me, Brutus Lancaster, my mentor and best friend of my father, enters the room.

"You're looking at the pretty District 12 girl? She's all everybody's been talking about, and it hasn't even been a couple hours."

"Brutus, she's so perfect. Oh my god. That was so brave. I really want her to win the Games now."

He raises his eyebrow at me.

"Don't tell me her looks are going to fool you. She may have volunteered, but that doesn't mean she won't slit your throat in the arena. Don't be an idiot; be careful if you're going to be allies with her."

That silences me.

"I still want her to win," I say after a while. "At least she had the courage to volunteer, where as I was forced to. Besides, if she does kill me, I would rather she did it that than anybody else doing it."

"Uh huh," he replies. "She's already messing with your head." He walks out of the room.

I fall asleep a few minutes later, dreaming of Katniss and me in an arena. It's just us two, and we're lying in a field of katniss roots and primrose flowers. It's my first dream that's not a nightmare in months.

I wake up to Leonis's high pitched voice banging on the door.

I rub my eyes. "What time is it?"

"Time to rise and shine, darling! The Capitol is waiting on you; wave to the fans outside; you're their sweetheart!" He smiles.

I groan. "Tell them their prince needs his beauty sleep. I was having a good dream." I slam my face back into the pillow until we really have to get off the train.

We walk outside and I can't tell if it's the sun or the gold reflecting off the Capitol buildings that blinds us. Either way, the city isn't that impressing, because District 2 has the biggest skyscrapers in all of Panem.

We are then led into a Justice Building with 12 floors. Logically, the second floor belongs to Clove, Brutus, Leonis, and I. My family, even Brutus who is around us so much he's almost part of it, has walked these halls before.

I don't even get to look around before I'm pulled onto the cosmetics station on floor 0.

There, I meet my stylist, Portia. Her hair and make-up is even more ridiculous that Leonis's. Capitol people are a different type of species I will never understand, nor want to become.

She takes one look at me from top to bottom and tells me to strip off my clothes. My cheeks flush a bright red, but I do. I'm told to lie down on a metal bed as they shower my whole body, and then I'm dressed in a white robe.

Then, I see them bringing out the wax. "Oh god, please, no," I plead, but Portia tells me it's necessary for the tribute parade. I bite my lip hard as they pull off each strip of wax from my legs until I can't take it anymore and tell them to give me a laser hair removal. It stings a lot, but I take it.

Hours later, I am dressed in a golden costume that wraps tight around my body but leaves my toned, muscular arms exposed. Matching it is a helmet with wings.

I pray that the bruises running up and down my arms, especially red on my knuckles, will be passed off as results from being a training Career. My scars are far, far away from being accidental.

"Well. I'll certainly stand out in the parade. Thank you." I quickly smile at Portia, not sure what else to say as I shift in my costume. It fades when she turns around.

She leads me out of the room and we wait another ten minutes for Clove to come out. Her costume matches mine.

We walk down the corridor and are lead into a giant hall with a run way, presumably where our chariots will carry us through the tribute parade. I take one look at the dark horses attached.

"I hope a wheel comes loose and rolls straight into President Snow."

I think it's Clove that's laughing at my joke, but it isn't.

Instead, I tilt my head and see Katniss Everdeen. Dressed in a tight black suit and hair pinned up; she's with her district partner, trying to duck and hide her laughter from a joke that he has made. When she turns, we catch each other's eyes.

I'm frozen to the ground at the same moment.

We stare at each other. Her cheeks blush pink from either intimidation or coquetry, until I, walking over with both passions burning in my blood, press my lips to her ear, growling in a low voice.

"Hey, Twelve. You're looking pretty tonight. Trying not burn in that suit?"


	5. Tribute Parade Part 1

KATNISS'S POV

* * *

We sit on a red couch, decorated with coffee shaded pillows beaded with pearls. They could feed a family for a month.

I whip my head back to the screen as District One's reaping plays.

A name is called, but without hesitation, a girl with loose, blonde hair steps to forward and volunteers. Her eyes are a piercing green, similar to mine.

She walks up proudly and their escort reads the male tribute's name. It doesn't surprise me to hear a shout in the distance; another volunteer.

A boy with orange and blonde hair and brown eyes steps forward and stands next to the female volunteer. They are my possible future killers.

District two's reaping is what catches my eye: Not the short girl with a killer face, brown hair, and eyes to match volunteering, but the tall, strong, blonde boy with blue eyes.

He seems to be pushed forward, and hesitates before shouting to volunteer, but it doesn't seem like he wants to. I watch his father, who seems especially enthusiastic about his son volunteering. I learn his name is Cato Adams.

No doubt he is strong and vicious, though, I hear his sister crying on stage. She, like her father and siblings, is a victor, which is what the Adams family is known for.

His mother looks like she's about to faint.

I swallow. His eyes are bluer than anything I've ever seen.

I tell myself to focus, that I am getting out of these games alone to survive and go home to Prim. Haymitch must have seen me staring a bit too long and says, ''He's a career. You know what that is?''

And I do. Careers are training kids who are placed in a special academy, practically from the time they learn to walk. They're specifically trained to volunteer and win the Games. Although this is illegal, they get away with it due to their social rank and close ties with the Capitol.

I look away from the TV, passing Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine and Ten. All scrawny and shaking, terrified kids are reaped, except maybe Eight, Six and Four.

What catches my attention is Eleven: A dark skinned girl gets reaped, and who looks the same age as Prim. Nobody volunteers for her. I learn her name is Rue, and her partner, almost identical in visible strength as Cato, joins her side. His name's Thresh.

Finally, our reaping plays. I look stronger then I think I did. Prim's screaming sends chills to my bone. Then, the channel cuts off.

Later on, Haymitch, who is once again unsurprisingly drunk, sits in front of us.

"Are you always this grumpy?" He drunkenly asks me.

Peeta tries to take his flask, but it only results with Haymitch's fist swining at his cheek. He's only left with a red mark as Haymitch passes out right after. I stand up, give him an ice pack, and then go into my room.

I kick off my shoes and slide on a blue, fleece nightgown that reaches my knees. Undoing my braid lets my brunette hair free. I slide into bed.

I lay there and think. Even with me being sent off to my death, I'm still more worried about Prim eating enough and my mother being in this world to support her.

I find out there is a sound system in my room. I press a button and it switches from waves crashing to a fireplace crackling. The one that suits me best is crickets chirping: The sounds of the woods at night. To my left, a green screen switches to a view of a forest to match the sound.

My eyes immediately get heavy and I fall asleep.

The next morning, we are only thirty minutes away from the Capitol. The sunlight beams through a window in my room, blinding me.

I sit up and rub my head. I hear Effie's knocks, along with her voice squealing ''It's going to be a big, big day!''

I slide on the black shirt and pants, and a pair of combat boots.

I walk out to breakfast and I'm immediately served a plate loaded with fried potatoes, scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes, a glass of orange juice, and mugs of hot chocolate and coffee.

Peeta tells me to try the hot chocolate, which I hesitantly put to my lips. But once I taste the creamy, sugary liquid, I must of served myself three times later on.

I stare at Haymitch. ''So how do you find shelter?'' I ask plainly.

''Pass me the jelly.'' He responds.

''I said, how do you find shelter?''

He reaches his hand past me and I grab my knife, aiming at it but sticking it into the table instead. He jerks his arm right away.

''Katniss! That is _mahogany_!'' Effie scoffs.

''Well look at you, killing placemats. Might as well name yourself victor.'' Haymitch irritably spreads jelly on his toast.

I glare at him, until behind his back flashes the Captiol scenery and the train slows to a stop.

Peeta and I are separated, taken by a group, whom I assume are our stylists. Then, we are all lead by peacekeepers who fend off the over excited Capitol freaks. They can't wait to see our deaths. How exciting.

I am leaded inside a building, where a bed lays. A woman with freakishly long eyelashes and a pink skin tone tells me to lie down; I learn her name is Venia. Soon, a plump woman, Octavia, my hairstylist, walks in along with Flavius, my makeup artist.

Venia places hot wax on my legs and arms, placing long, thin strips of waxing paper over each area. I don't know what's she's doing until with one effortless pull on my legs, the hair comes right off. A burning, itching sensation travels throughout my body.

"Ow!" I yelp, not being able to help it.

"Sorry, you're just really hairy," says Venia. That shuts me up. I hear Flavius say they might need to hose me down again, until they take me to somebody named Cinna.

I have no idea who this is until I'm taken into an empty room, when I see a dark skinned man dressed in normal clothing, and thin golden eyeliner on his lids. He looks like an actual human being.

"I'm Cinna." He says as he helps me into the room, surrounded by pink carpet, yellow chairs and a table filled with food, which I'm thinking is lunch.

He pulls out my chair and sits next to me. I have barely met this man no more than five minutes ago and I am about to eat with him. I don't touch the food until he tells me.

"That was one of the bravest things I've ever seen, Katniss." I swallow. What I did was not brave, it wasn't. Not to me, I was never and will never be good enough for Prim. I quietly respond a quiet thank you.

He fills my plate up with food and puts it in front of me. "You're going to need your strength." He says as he puts his hand on my shoulder.

After we finish, I am stripped naked of my clothes. I am so embarrassed that I want grab the nearest robe and cover myself.

"Just a second, okay?" He says quietly. He walks around me, observing every inch. He does not laugh or smile or joke around like I expect him to. After he is done, his gentle hands take a robe and place it over my shoulders.

"Tonight's the tribute parade." He pulls out the same chair for me to sit on. My whole body shakes.

Last year, the tributes from Twelve were naked and slabbed with coal. As you may guess, they were the laughing stocks. Not to mention, they had to go down a long row of people watching them, pointing and laughing.

"This is my first year as a fashion stylist. I'm not going to make you go naked, Katniss.' He reassures. "I'm going to help you make an impression."

I can't help but smile.

He walks to a closet and opens it, taking out a tight, black suit, which is made mostly of leather. He helps me put it on and zips it up.

I look into the mirror and notice curves I didn't know I had. My waist comes in perfectly, my thighs full and my chest at a perfect angle.

Octavia and Flavius come in to do my hair and makeup.

We are then leaded out to a big hall, where the tribute parade will happen. I see Peeta come in with the same suit.

"Hey, think you stole that look from me," he says jokes. I try not to laugh. I want to appear serious; I want him to be afraid of me for some reason.

As we are escorted, I see him, the blonde boy from District Two.

Cato.


End file.
